


this is not an apology.

by dylaesthetics



Series: thoughts the other doesn't hear. [pov change]. [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Allison's Death, Angst, Between 3b and 4, F/M, Falling In Love, Jealousy, Lydia's POV, Mexico, Mutual Pining, One Shot, Stydia, there's scira here too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:42:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25790788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dylaesthetics/pseuds/dylaesthetics
Summary: Lydia thought about love. About loving her mom. Her friends. About loving him. Each kind of love felt different yet obtained the same warm feeling in her chest that sealed all the holes in her heart shut.“And you can’t breathe until you’re with them.” she suddenly muttered, finally locking eyes with Stiles as the sun had nearly disappeared at the horizon behind him. “I.. That’s what Allison told me once.”And just like that, Lydia said her best friend’s name out loud for the first time. Easily. Because even with Allison gone, she would always love her and remember her for who she was and what she’d taught her. How she’d listened and understood. How incredibly happy she’d become if Lydia could tell her she was in love. And Allison would want her to keep going, even if she was no longer here.
Relationships: Lydia Martin/Stiles Stilinski
Series: thoughts the other doesn't hear. [pov change]. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1922386
Comments: 6
Kudos: 52





	this is not an apology.

Alone. So alone, even the crows that usually occupied a tree branch that blocked the window of Lydia’s bedroom no longer disturbed her with their eerie calls. In fact, there were no sounds, no voices echoing from wall to wall, no noise except for the unstable heartbeat drumming against her chest, which was breaking and on the verge of shattering altogether.

Allison was dead. Her contagious laugh was stolen from this room forever. Even though some of her clothes still possessed Lydia’s wardrobe, Allison would never wear them again. Eventually, Lydia will be forced to get rid of them, but she couldn’t bear the inevitable now. Lydia saw Allison’s face at every corner of her bedroom – the desk she’d sat at, doing her homework while Lydia sent pictures to Jackson in sophomore year, the window sill she cried on when she and Scott broke up, and the bed on which she lied with her arms behind her head while Lydia gossiped about Aiden. Yet none of these memories brought her back. Allison was just gone and Lydia wished so was she.

She had a feeling. She _knew_ someone was going to die tonight. She left her friends a note saying to not go looking for her right before the nogitsune had kidnapped her. But despite her rushed attempts, her friends were the kind of people who would risk their lives to save someone close to them.

It was all her fault. If only she’d tried harder, if only she never complimented her outfit by her locker on Allison’s first day at Beacon Hill’s, if only she were stronger, if only she could contain whatever powers she was cursed with, if only...

Lydia’s guilt didn’t stop there. As she lied on the floor with her arms hugging her knees, catatonically looking in distance with eyes unfocused, Lydia understood that she didn’t just lose her best friend. Her dad would never see his daughter grow up. Isaac would never kiss her again, hell, he’d never even managed to tell her he loved her. Scott...

Lydia couldn’t think about Scott now. Within a week, Scott’s dad had nearly been killed, his best friend feared to have his late mom’s disease, possessed by a murderous, chaos craving demon that nearly killed Scott and died himself, and tonight Scott lost his first love, the girl who he will always love.

And Stiles... Stiles was the hardest to think about now. Because as much as Lydia accused herself, she was certain Stiles felt the most blame.

She’d talk to him. After all this is over – if it ever will be, after Stiles has begun to heal, after Lydia herself can utter Allison’s name.

She hasn’t the slightest clue if she ever _will_ be able to heal. With so much loss, tragedy and mess, Lydia simply could not find the time. She was responsible. She understood that her knowledge alone puts her on the frontline at every supernatural disturbance. But for a single night, she wished she could mourn the death of her best friend, without the usual amount of worry for who the next chaos will steal from her and her pack.

And without realizing, Lydia drifted to sleep on the floor against her wall.

* * *

A month after Allison’s and Aidan’s deaths and the defeat of the nogitsune that brought Stiles back, Lydia still hadn’t said Allison’s name out loud. She had tried, but every time her voice would break and eyes blur with tears.

Lydia had tried to talk to Stiles, too, but, then again, no one really _had_ talked to him. In fact, nobody was really on speaking terms with anyone in the pack. They’d spot each other at school and slightly nod in the hallways or accidentally stumble across one another while bringing flowers to Allison’s grave. Isaac had left with Chris, leaving no goodbye note. So had Ethan.

Funnily enough, _Stiles_ appeared to be in the best condition out of them all. The dark circles under his eyes slowly dissipated and some colour returned to his cheeks. Lydia had even spotted a half-smile creeping upon his lips when he’d talked to Malia – the werecoyote who’d recently turned up at the high school.

Apart from her grief, Lydia was greeted with another emotion she’d attempted to drown out weeks before the pack ever found out about the nogitsune. Affection.

Her numbness replaced jealousy when she’d spot Stiles with an arm around Malia’s back or hands in each other’s, how easily he seemed to replace her as Stiles had never held _Lydia_ like that - with such care.

Sometimes Lydia would ponder about what it is that she feels for Stiles to distract herself from the two faces of late friends that constantly captured her mind. She’d look back at their kiss that ended up meaning more to her than any she’d ever experienced but every time she got punched with the realization that whoever she’d kissed on the locker room’s floor no longer existed, he was now the person who’d ignore her in class and avoid in hallways. His mind had turned darker and his fingers trembled more than when he had a panic attack. His arm was around another girl’s and eyes shined when boring into Malia’s. And he no longer liked _her_.

For the dozenth time, Lydia stared at the back of Stiles’ head from the farthest corner of their English class. Until a month ago, she had taken the seat next to Stiles’ at the front but when Stiles had neglected her ‘hello’ on the day she finally returned to school, she rushed to the empty seat next to Jared. On the same day, Malia showed up 10 minutes late and flopped down in Lydia’s old seat, sharing knowing glances with Stiles.

Lydia shifted her gaze to Malia, who held a yellow highlighter between her teeth as she highlighted paragraphs of her English book in red, something Lydia had caught Stiles doing multiple times before.

This was the same class where Stiles had leaned over her to protect her from the crows that performed a mass suicide during their first lesson with Ms Blake. The same class where they’d joked around with each other until their teacher gave Stiles detention. The same class where Stiles would pass her notes with funny drawings while the teacher was looking the other way. The same notes she collected and glued to the faded pages of her diary.

But now Lydia wonders if Stiles will ever even speak another word to her, if she’d hear his voice deepen as he tries to withhold his emotions or jump when he’s full of excitement. Lydia wonders if they will ever be friends again at all. And with all the friends she’s lost, losing Stiles right now hit her especially strong.

When the bell rang, announcing their lunch break, Lydia didn’t get up. She’d noticed by now that if she were to stand up right away, she’d reach the door at the same time as Stiles and Malia, and be forced to become really small in the corner by the door so that they couldn’t notice her while they squeezed through the exit themselves.

In fact, Lydia was so occupied with paying attention to anything other than Stiles, she failed to notice that everyone in the class had left. Everyone, except for the one person she wished to not encounter. Stiles was sitting still in his seat, tapping fingers against his desk and looking straight ahead at the blackboard.

“You know, it’s easier to ignore someone if you don’t make it so obvious.”

Stiles was speaking to her. Even though the first words Lydia heard from him in a month weren’t so pleasant, he was actually _speaking_ to _her._

“That’s not fair.” her voice displayed every ounce of anxiety she felt. “You ignored me first.”

Stiles hissed and muttered something she couldn’t understand before continuing, gaze still focused on the crayon marks. “I didn’t mean to ignore you. It’s just really hard to look at you, knowing what I did to you.”

“Not _you_.” Lydia reminded in a voice much softer, as quiet as a whisper.

Stiles stopped the tapping at once, placing his palm flat on the desk.

“Maybe I didn’t _want_ to do it but I was _there_ , every time _he_ hurt all of you. My body did those things. With these hands he tried to kill Scott.” he waved his hands around in the air desperately.

Lydia said nothing. The extent of Stiles’ presence, while he was possessed, was news to her and she couldn’t tell what was worse – knowing that you’re hurting your loved ones but being in no control of your actions or being like Jackson in the sophomore year – killing without knowing about it.

“I just want to be normal again.” Stiles breathed out, voice thick of misery. “Talk to you guys.”

That, however, angered Lydia. “That’s where you’re wrong, Stiles. We’ll never be normal. We never _were_ normal. We know too much to ever be.”

“OK, not normal then,” Stiles uttered after a minute of silence, scratching the back of his head – what Lydia had noticed to be a symptom of _his_ anxiety. “But is getting back to being friends an option anymore?”

“I’m sure Scott would appreciate that.” Lydia scoffed and instantly regretted it. She had no intention of making Stiles more anxious than he is already.

“But I’m not asking Scott. I’m asking you.”

Before she responded, Lydia ensured her voice would come out less aggressive, yet the meaning of her words failed her. “You see, you’re not actually. You’re facing a blackboard 20 feet away from me and you haven’t looked at me in a month.”

Without hesitation, Stiles pushed his chair back, arose from his seat, approached the desk in front of Lydia’s and turned its chair the other way around to then sit on it, only a foot from her astonished face that he bored into with his goldens.

“Is this better?” he grinned, satisfied with Lydia’s flustered reaction.

“I..” Lydia couldn’t look away, finally locking her eyes with the ones she’d missed and the smile that was exposed on his face, even if slightly forced, was Stiles’.

He rested his chin on his palms, watching Lydia’s expressions go from baffled to soothing. “I just want to say how sorry I am.”

“For what?” Lydia whispered, trying to get in touch with her emotions to make them vanish. Only after finally seeing Stiles so close to her again, she realized the extent of her feelings towards him. They were, as it turns out, very _overwhelming_.

“The list is long. The lunch break probably isn’t enough time to get into the first half. Perhaps we could do it another time? After school, my place?” his lack of hesitation informed Lydia that this conversation was, in fact, planned.

Before she could consider the offer rationally because her brain screaming ‘this is _Stiles_ and he _wants_ to talk to _you_ , he is _actually_ finally looking at you’ seemed the very opposite, her mouth formed the word “Fine.”

* * *

Later that afternoon, Lydia rang the bell to Stiles’ house with a slight wonder of how much different life had been the previous time she was here with _Stiles_ weeks ago, after Barrow’s escape. The night she’d spent playing with 4 coloured strings and staring at Stiles as he wrestled with his thoughts, theorizing about Barrow’s location and Lydia felt powerless and useless because she’d messed up. The next time she was there, on the night of Stiles’ disappearance, her powers failed her. Again.

When no one came to the door, Lydia let herself in, knocked off her shoes and climbed up the stairs to Stiles’ bedroom nearly automatically. Only as she tiptoed into the hallway that led to Stiles’ room, she heard voices coming from the other side of the door.

“Not _now_.”

“Come on, Stiles. That’s enough homework.”

“Malia, you can’t afford to fail another test. This is why I’m trying to help.”

“No more studying.”

A brief silence fell upon them then and, only after several moments, Lydia realized she could hear _kissing_. A pair of lips against others. Then, a quiet moan.

She stepped away from the door in shock and heard Stiles’ voice again, but his words were muffled. Desperately, she tried to get away from what she’d just witnessed, running down the stairs stealthily and picking up her shoes before rushing out on the porch, where she stopped, catching her breath.

So Stiles was _dating_ Malia. They weren’t just physically close when she’d seen them at school. Stiles liked someone else.

After a momentary freak-out, Lydia started putting her shoes back on on the stairs of the Stilinski house’s porch and tried to find a way to think about the situation rationally, at the same time regretting she’d ever let herself in.

First of all, she had absolutely _no_ right to feel jealous. Stiles didn’t owe her staying single until she finally caught up with her feelings. Stiles didn’t owe her anything. Lydia had many, _many_ chances to confess to him, but she could never find the right moment. Most of all, she had neglected him for half of their school life, up until a year ago. Stiles deserved to move on. He deserved someone who he didn’t have to wait on.

Second, she’d pretend to have never heard anything at all and simply text Stiles to inform him about her arrival, instead of barging in unannounced like a psychopath.

Ten minutes after the text was sent, the door behind her opened and, obliviously, Malia ran into her, knocking Lydia’s phone out of her hands.

“Watch where you’re sitting!” Malia growled at her, her eyes glowing blue, before waving a quick goodbye to Stiles and disappearing into the street. Lydia didn’t fail to notice that her hair was shuffled and so was Stiles’.

“Sorry, she’s... Still trying to get accustomed to being a human.” Stiles joked, opening his door wide and waiting for her to follow him in.

“So, you and Malia?” Lydia uttered unemotionally, picking at her nails as they walked up the stairs.

“Yeah.”

“How did that happen?”

Stiles didn’t answer until they entered his bedroom, in which she immediately noticed a few changes. The murder board was now an actual glass wall in the middle of his room. There were no red, yellow, blue or green strings, instead, the colours were seen in stickers that stuck pictures to the glass. Then she noticed clothes she’d never seen Stiles wear before scattered across his room, clothes she recognized and immediately understood belonged to Malia. Which she, obviously, couldn’t feel jealous about. Not ever.

“We were both going through a lot and ended up realizing it’s easier to go through a lot together, I suppose. I don’t go nuts on the night of the full moon but she became a sort of an anchor to me when it comes to other things. And the other way around.” Stiles explained as he flumped on his chair and Lydia – on his bed, where she was painfully aware the couple had just made out on.

The promise she made to herself seconds ago was quickly broken. Lydia couldn’t contain her emotions and to stop herself from tearing up, she pinched her lips. Stiles was _her_ anchor. It was Stiles who ran to her when she was panicking or she’d stumbled across another body, or got herself caught up in a life-threatening situation.

Still, she was not allowed to feel this way.

“Back to the reason you’re here, I suppose.”

Lydia realized only then that she hadn’t thought about Allison or Aiden since her arrival. The sole reason she came here in the first place after the dark, lonely month she’d spent on the floor of her bedroom.

“I’m going to start with-”

“I don’t want you to apologize.” Lydia interrupted Stiles at once.

“I.. What?”

She let silence fill the room, taking in their current situation. Stiles was _very_ far away, too far of her liking – usually, they’d lie on the bed together, which Stiles felt a little flustered about the first time they had while Lydia had found him adorable.

“In my opinion, the only thing you’ve done wrong is ignoring the pack,” Lydia spoke confidently. “Two of them have left town, you know, Isaac and Ethan. No one knows where Derek is. Scott, Kira, you and I have barely spoken a word to each other until today. We’ve fallen apart. And I personally don’t think you need to even apologize for that because you’re not alone in this – we _all_ are ignoring each other because we’re so afraid..” Lydia couldn’t finish but Stiles understood perfectly what she was about to say next.

Afraid of burying someone again. Of course, regardless of the pack staying together or apart, they would react to another person’s death exactly as they were now.

“So why _did_ you come?” Stiles’ voice was small.

“Because you’re my _friend._ ” it came out instinctively. “And I prefer to be on good terms with my friends.”

“Does that mean we should talk to the others? Scott? Kira?” Stiles nervously played with his fingers and Lydia only looked at them for a moment too long, imagining the last time they were holding hers.

Lydia swallowed loudly. “Immediately. I get that you’ve found someone else but the rest of us - we need each other.”

“You’ve still got me, Lyds.”

They then stared at one another for several minutes, easing into each other’s long-missed presence. This is what they did. Lydia and Stiles, always the ones to come up with a plan. The ones who figure it out. Lydia couldn’t help her grin, remembering how she’d said it to Stiles on the day she stepped on the bear trap. Then she remembered why that happened in the first place. Rescuing Malia.

“Speaking of the pack. I was... I don’t know.” Stiles stuttered, finally looking away. “Malia, Malia’s supernatural. And she’s lonely. And she needs to learn a lot about changing from Scott, I promised her that. Do you think she could join the pack?”

Silence. Or if Stiles had a supernatural hearing, he’d hear the sound of Lydia’s heart breaking in her chest. She hadn’t even put the two together.

“I’m not the alpha, Stiles. I can’t make that kind of decision.” Lydia decided that avoiding that responsibility altogether was the easiest choice. Perhaps she won’t give her feelings away.

“Yeah, but I care about your opinion.”

Really, Stiles didn’t give her a break.

“I suppose a werewolf needs a pack,” Lydia replied through clenched teeth.

“Werecoyote.” Stiles corrected her.

“I suppose a _werecoyote_ needs a pack.”

“It’s settled then. We call Kira and Scott. And Malia.” he added, beginning to grin like a child. “Is Scott gonna do a pack audition to decide whether to let her in? Imagine that.”

And there it was. The old Stiles she missed with every fibre in her body. The Stiles she once ignored, then discovered a connection and became friends with. The Stiles who had saved her life more than once. The Stiles she ended up falling in love with.

Her eyes cracked open in shock with that realization and Lydia quickly turned away, out of Stiles’ sight, to host a little freak-our party in her mind.

Lydia only fell in love with Stiles when he had already fallen out of love with her.

* * *

The drive to Mexico was incredibly long. With Stiles, Scott, Kira, Malia and Lydia, Stiles’ jeep was stuffed and uncomfortable. What made it worse, however, was that Lydia could perfectly see Malia’s hand on Stiles’ around the stick shift and the adoring glance he dedicated to Malia every time she spoke. The glance he used to save for her eyes only.

The plan was simple but just as stupid. Lydia and Stiles, as the minds of the operation and _almost_ -humans, would bargain with a werewolf hunter to bring Derek back, while a werewolf, werecoyote and kitsune occupied the hunter’s house. The only problem, however, was that there were about a million ways they could all get killed.

“If my dad finds out – I’m dead, OK? I’m _dead_! He thinks we’re camping!” Stiles interrupted the momentary silence in the car, hitting a large rock on the horribly conditioned road as he pronounced ‘dead’.

“We.. _could_ be camping in the middle of Mexico? I don’t know, I’ve never been camping.” Kira confessed hastily.

Lydia, on the other hand, approached Stiles’ comment with sarcasm. “Perhaps he won’t have to because you could be dead today already!”

“Lydia, stop hating the plan.”

“Stiles.” Lydia rolled her eyes. “This could be the stupidest plan we’ve ever come up with. You’re aware of that, right?”

“I’m aware it’s not our best.”

“We are going to die.”

“Are you saying that as a banshee or you’re just being pessimistic?”

“I’m saying it as a person who doesn’t want to die.”

“OK. Would you just mind restricting any talk of death to any actual banshee predictions?”

“This plan is stupid and we’re going to die.”

“Oh, thank you!”

They stopped bickering right then and while Scott complained about the heat, Lydia felt Kira’s stare shifting from her to Stiles in the driver’s seat. Lydia shot her a questioning glance but Kira simply shook her head, no explanation whatsoever.

“Is she always like that?” Malia didn’t even try to bring down her voice.

Stiles’ hand shivered on the stick shift. “Hey, Malia, be nice. We talked about this,” he said much quieter.

“We also talked about something else that still bothers me, you know.”

“Not here, OK?” Stiles urged and Lydia noticed Malia relocate her hand back to her lap.

* * *

“Your girlfriend hates me.”

The jeep had broken down in the middle of nowhere in Mexico shortly after Scott left with Braeden. As the sun was setting, Stiles still hadn’t figured out a way to fix it and Lydia uselessly passed him tools (if you can call duct tape a tool) while Malia and Kira investigated a strange smell in the bushes that most definitely came from a creature they wanted to know nothing about.

“No, she hates everyone.” Stiles objected through a small wrench in his mouth but the muffled sound didn’t cover the hint of dishonesty in his expression.

“But she hates me more.”

Stiles dropped the wrench, which eased Lydia’s sanitary concerns. “OK.”

“OK what?”

Stiles looked around, checking if Malia was anywhere in sight. When he couldn’t spot her, he hoped she wasn’t listening in.

“I told her about how I was..” Stiles appeared embarrassed and Lydia’s heart skipped several beats when she realized what he was about to reveal. “About my _past_ feelings for you and she kind of didn’t take it that well. But that’s Malia. She doesn’t fully understand humans just yet.”

Stiles stopped working on the jeep issue altogether. Lydia, on the other hand, repeated the words ‘was’ and ‘past’ in her mind and pretended they hadn’t hurt her. But within a few seconds, Stiles had destroyed any remaining hope that he hadn’t moved on. That Lydia still had a chance if not now, then some other time.

But, of course, Stiles wouldn’t be with Malia if he wasn’t over Lydia. That made plenty of sense.

“Is she.. jealous?” Lydia asked carefully when Malia, though in the far distance, entered her sight. While Malia remained still, appearing to be smelling the air, Kira slowly started walking in their direction.

Stiles shrugged. “I suppose I would be, too, in her place. Wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never loved anyone like that.” Lydia outright lied.

Stiles appeared surprised, however, for the wrong reason. “You haven’t? What about Jackson?”

“He was... That wasn’t love. I said it but I never loved him.” this time, Lydia told the absolute truth.

Whatever she felt for Stiles currently was nothing like she’d felt for Jackson. She had liked him, yes, but a large part of their relationship was forced from both of their sides. As someone who didn’t _know_ what love is, Lydia struggled to understand whether ‘love’ really is the right label.

“I mean, how do you even know when you love someone?” Lydia _needed_ to know.

Stiles dedicated a long and hesitant glance to her, mouth opening and closing, which terrified Lydia and she almost started apologizing for bringing it up until Kira approached the two of them by the car.

“You find comfort in that person. They’re kind of your safe place.” she had, apparently, heard Lydia’s question.

Lydia opened her mouth to question her but was immediately interrupted by Stiles.

“And you just always want them to be safe and put their safety above your own.” Lydia was too busy wondering hard if he was referencing Malia or her to notice Stiles’ consistent gaze on her face.

It was her, wasn’t it? Winter formal. Crows. Beartrap. And Lydia herself had protected Stiles when he was possessed or when he had a panic attack.

“And they’re the first person you tell what’s happening in your life to, good or bad.” Kira continued, looking in distance with eyes full of adoration as she rambled.

“And you kind of don’t care where or who they end up with, as long as you know they’re content.” Stiles had completely forgotten about the dangerous situation they were in now, stepped away from his beloved jeep. “First love is even crazier. You just know that regardless of other partners or time passed, you will always love that person in one way or another.”

Lydia avoided Stiles’ warm gaze and instead paid a little too much attention to the various sizes of wrenches in Stiles’ incomplete toolbox.

That is until Kira feverishly grabbed her hand and squealed in excitement. “Guys, I think I love Scott.”

And at the same time, Lydia thought the same about the boy in front of her she tried so hard to ignore, over and over, drowning her feelings the second they manifested all because she believed it would hurt Stiles more.

But perhaps Stiles _was_ referencing his feelings for Malia the entire time. And perhaps it’s alright. If Stiles loved Lydia, _actually_ loved her once, that seemed enough. And if Stiles was happy with someone that isn’t her, that’s just as fine.

“Great, now that we’ve got that settled!” Stiles exclaimed in Kira’s direction but she had already run off to where Malia still stood alone.

Lydia thought about love. About loving her mom. Her friends. About loving Stiles. Each kind of love felt different yet obtained the same warm feeling in her chest that sealed all the holes in her heart shut.

“And you can’t breathe until you’re with them.” she suddenly muttered, finally locking eyes with Stiles as the sun had nearly disappeared at the horizon behind him. “I... That’s what Allison told me once.”

And just like that, Lydia said her best friend’s name out loud for the first time. Easily. Because even with Allison gone, she would always love her and remember her for who she was and what she’d taught her. How she’d listened and understood. How incredibly happy she’d become if Lydia could tell her she was in love. And Allison would want her to keep going, even when she was no longer here.

“And she’s right,” Stiles uttered, noticing her glistering eyes. “Quite literally, though, I couldn’t breathe once and then you..”

Lydia laughed, putting a hand in the air to stop him from talking. She couldn’t remember the last time she had. In these painfully long months of mourning, she didn’t feel content enough to even smile sincerely. Now, however, she felt so free she could set her wings off and fly. Lydia knows that wherever Allison is watching over her from, she’s grateful that Lydia’s finally figured it out.

“I’m not talking about this with you, Stiles.” Lydia couldn’t stop grinning now. “Now, fix the car so that we can get the hell out of here.”

**Author's Note:**

> hey, back with another super angsty lydia's pov. i actually don't like allison whatsover but i tried to see her death from lydia's perspective and it was quite a roller coaster! hope you enjoyed, i literally was writing this for 7 hours straight today out of pure sadness because i miss lydia and stiles so much.
> 
> @piinofs on twitter


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